Dark Awakening
by wildsky
Summary: He awoke to blood and anguish that were not his own.


**Disclaimer: I don't own 'em (unless they're originals). Please don't sue me. It's **_**so**_** not worth it.**

**A/N: **I couldn't resist playing with my characters from _Dark Sunrise_ and _Dark Vestige_, Béla (pronounced Bay-la) and Seraphine. I tried to work around the historical timeline on CF's site. This stands apart from the two previous stories where the characters were unaware of each other.

**Dark Awakening**

**Circa 500AD**

He awoke to blood and anguish that were not his own.

The screams echoed in his mind, dragging him forcibly back to the realm of consciousness and the beast within him raged to the surface in answer. His leaden limbs spasmed as crimson edged his vision. He clawed sluggishly at the surrounding earth, driven by sheer animal instinct to protect the voice that cried out in fear and desperation. Yet his efforts were in vain. The sun locked him to the soil; shackles of golden light that had never been so hateful to him in all the long centuries of his existence.

_Béla…?_

He felt his brother stirring faintly in his mind, many hundreds of miles away, and latched onto the contact like a lifeline. The monster inside of him roared in fury and Vlad's voice, twined with the firm but feminine touch of Sarantha's, tightened its grip on him.

_He'll kill her!_ Béla shouted in desperation, too far gone to wonder how he knew that the psyche pulling at him was female or what her attacker wanted.

_Béla, stay with us!_ they pleaded, their fear that he had succumbed to the darkness washing over him in a wave.

The shrieks intensified and cold terror struck at his heart. _Vlad!_ He flung the swirl of fright and pain at his brother, shoving it into his mind with all the strength he could muster.

The Prince and his lifemate recoiled in alarm and Béla felt their withdrawal as they focused their considerable power on pushing past the crippling lethargy to search for the source.

Every moment was an eternity. Agony made Béla curl in upon himself, his fingers lengthening into claws, fangs exploding into his mouth. Wrath, white-hot and impotent, surged through his veins. The demon within snarled, tearing at the walls imposed upon it and his eyes blazed red, man and fiend for once in accord. It could have been hours or minutes. Her frightened shouts were like a knife in the chest.

Then the screaming stopped. As if someone had snapped their fingers and the sound had halted on cue. The link was gone; broken. All that remained for the hunter were echoes and the sudden, terrible, soul-deep knowledge that the one thing in the world that was truly his to treasure and protect was at risk and out of his reach.

Half-crazed and powerless to intervene, all Béla could do was wait for the sun to near the horizon while Vladimir and Sarantha locked him to them, refusing to let him go for fear that the beast would take him over.

Hours passed, crawling at a snail's pace, and thunderous silence tormented those awaiting sunset.

The moment the sun was low enough in the sky, sinking into the west, a roar erupted from beneath the earth that made the valley shake, the cloudless sky suddenly congealing as thunderheads rolled in. The creature that emerged from the depths of the soil bore little resemblance to the Carpathian that had awoken at midday. He launched himself skyward, disappearing into the maelstrom, venting his fury to the darkening skies as he streaked towards the mountains that had once been his home.

Béla had not expected resistance. He had not expected his brother to despatch hunters to stop him from reaching his goal. The Dark Twins met him halfway and fought him to a halt. They brought him grave news and an implacable warning from the Prince.

Sascha Daratrazanoff was dead, his heart burned to ash within his chest. His mate, Rhiannon, was missing. Their wards had been destroyed, unravelled by a mage, and their traumatized daughter – sleeping beneath her parents and shielded by another set of protective spells – was in the care of Dominic Dragonseeker and Marcus Daratrazanoff.

Their daughter, who had woken to find her mother and father fighting for their lives, who had felt her father die within her mind and been bathed in his blood as it soaked through the soil.

_Stay away_, Gabriel told him, passing along Vlad's command. _Upon your honour as a Dubrinsky, stay away. She is a fledgling and far too fragile_. _She cannot be what you need yet_.

Béla seethed that Vlad could deny him the right to protect what was destined to be his, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Neither brother could ever be called a fool. They had reached the same conclusion – that only a lifemate could have sensed her distress from such a distance, becoming aware of the unfolding tragedy before another living soul.

_One hundred and thirteen years_, Vlad told him later, _until she comes of age_. Over a century before Marcus and Dominic would declare the time of claiming.

_Is she all right?_ Béla had asked, her present state of more concern to him than the future at that point in time.

_She is angry and grieving_, Sarantha had replied gently. _Marcus and Dominic guard her fiercely._

_As they should_, Béla had replied darkly, still chafing at the restrictions placed upon him when his very nature demanded that he go to her and keep her safe. But he had given his word and he would not go back on it. After emotion had faded along with colour, his honour and his family had been the only things he had left.

Months crept by, stretching into years and years into decades. He tried to imagine what she looked like, for Vlad would give him no hint. Didn't Dragonseekers have green eyes? Would her hair be flame red as Rhiannon's had been?

Night after night. Year after year. Kill after kill until finally his brother called to him.

_Béla, I am sorry_, Vlad said, sounding tired beyond imagining. _Seraphine is gone_…


End file.
